


Neither Fish Nor Flesh

by rusty_armour



Category: Robin of Sherwood
Genre: Fishpond, Gen, Humor, Mystical, Obscure and British Commentfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 15:31:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14697090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rusty_armour/pseuds/rusty_armour
Summary: The outlaws try to determine what the problem might be with Abbot Hugo's fishpond.





	Neither Fish Nor Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Obscure & British Commentfest 2018](https://lost-spook.dreamwidth.org/812931.html) based on the following prompt from [liadtbunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/profile): 
> 
> Robin of Sherwood, Abbot Hugo, fish pond dilemma (feel free to add any other characters)

* * *

 

Robin stood, hands on hips, gazing out across the water. “Well, this is it.”

John leaned on his quarterstaff and grinned. “Aye, lad. The Abbot Hugo’s fishpond.”

Much stared at the fishpond in confusion and then turned to Tuck. “I don’t see nothing wrong with it.”

Tuck laid a chubby hand on Much’s shoulder. “Looks can be deceiving, Much. All may seem right on the surface, but trouble could be lurking below.”

Much’s face lit up. “Do you think it’s water sprites? Is that the trouble lurking below?”

Robin rolled his eyes, and John gave a heartfelt groan.

“Much, we’ve discussed this,” Tuck said. “There’s no such thing as water sprites.”

Much bit his lip and nodded. “Aye, I remember.”

Tuck squeezed Much’s shoulder. “Good lad.”

“I reckon it must be a sea serpent then,” Much said.

“Much!” John groaned again and pressed a hand to his forehead. “I doubt it’s anything worse than stagnant water.”

“Then why is a severed arm floating in the fishpond?” Much asked.

“What?” Robin cried. He moved closer to the edge of the fishpond and crouched down to take a better look. “Much is right! There is an arm floating in the water!”

“Bless me, so there is,” Tuck said. “Well, now we know what happened to at least one of the missing monks from St. Mary’s.”

The four outlaws wouldn’t have been gaping at the severed arm in the first place if the band hadn’t ambushed Abbot Hugo on the road through Sherwood that morning. Hugo was highly agitated even before Will began eyeing his ears in a bloodthirsty manner, so it wasn’t long before his story came tumbling out.

The Abbot had been travelling to Nottingham to speak to the Sheriff. For nearly a fortnight, the Abbot’s fishpond had yielded little or no fish. He’d gone nearly a month without dining on eels. It had been even longer since he had tasted any pike or perch. The laymen had inspected the sluice gates, but everything had been in perfect working order. That could only mean one thing as far as the Abbot was concerned. The water level was too low, and his backstabbing little brother was responsible. After all, it had been the Sheriff who had forced him to lower the water level in the first place. Robin suspected that there was more to it than that and asked the Abbot if he had observed anything at the abbey that seemed unusual.

After giving the question some thought, the Abbot admitted that a few monks had disappeared since the fishpond had fallen into peril. However, the Abbot doubted that the two events were connected. Indeed, he had barely given the missing monks much thought as he had been so worried about his fishpond. John had stomped off after calling the Abbot a bastard, while Will had pulled out his knife and regarded the Abbot’s acoustic organs lovingly. As John had already left the camp, Robin put Will in charge of guarding Abbot Hugo and his ears. Then Robin put Nasir in charge of Will because he knew that he couldn’t trust Will not to maim and possibly kill the Sheriff’s brother. And as Marion was still at Halstead Priory after so cruelly breaking Robin’s heart, only four of them were left to deal with the mystery of Abbot Hugo’s fishpond.

“There has to be some reason why both the fish and the monks of St. Mary’s are disappearing,” Robin said. “We have to discover what’s in the water.”

Much shook his head, eyes wide in terror. “I ain’t going in there. Not if there’s a sea serpent.”

Robin smiled. “There should be a net. Perhaps we could use that.” He looked over at John and Tuck for confirmation, frowning when he saw that John was poking around in the fishpond with his quarterstaff. “The water may be shallow, John, but I doubt it’s that-” Robin’s voice trailed off as John yanked his quarterstaff out of the water, and they all saw the writhing, screeching creature that was dangling from the weapon by its jaws.

“Oh,” Much said, sounding disappointed, “it’s not a sea serpent at all.”

Robin stared at the creature in horrified fascination. “But it can’t be...That’s-that’s impossible.”

“Is that what I think it is?” Tuck asked. “Cromm Cruac?”

“Yes, I-I think so,” Robin said, “but I thought he’d been destroyed. Even if he did survive, I don’t know how he could have made it into Abbot Hugo’s fishpond.” His eyes fell reluctantly on the creature that was still attached to John’s quarterstaff. “John, you must be very careful. Cromm Cruac is very powerful and-” Robin winced as John whacked his quarterstaff on the ground.

John, who had been seething ever since he’d seen the damage that Cromm Cruac had inflicted on his favourite quarterstaff, was eyeing the creature in pure loathing. “By heaven, you’ll pay for that.”

“John, no!” Tuck cried.

John had found a tree and was smashing Cromm Cruac against the trunk. Everyone but John covered their ears as the tiny but ferocious creature shrieked at the top of its lungs.

When the terrible din had ended and Cromm Cruac was nothing but a dark pulpy mess, Tuck laid a gentle hand on John’s back. “I think it’s dead, lad.”

John sighed. “Aye, I reckon you’re right, but did you see what it did to my quarterstaff? It nearly bit the end off!”

Much toed the dead creature dispassionately with his boot. “What are we going to do with it now?”

“Well, with all the excitement of Abbot Hugo’s visit, none of us have gone hunting for venison today,” Tuck said.

Robin stared at Tuck in bemusement. “And...?”

Tuck was beaming down at Cromm Cruac, rubbing his hands. “ _And_ John has just provided us with a tasty meal.”

Robin grimaced in disgust, but he didn’t stop his friends from carrying off the revolting game. Robin thought that if he closed his eyes and used his imagination, he might just manage to pretend that he was eating tench. It had come out of Abbot Hugo’s fishpond after all.


End file.
